


brine under my nails, water in my lungs, and your flesh on mine

by absolutelybonkered



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, MerMay, Mermaids, Objectification, Octopus! Elias, Oviposition, Size Difference, Size Kink, Tentacles, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24330967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/absolutelybonkered/pseuds/absolutelybonkered
Summary: On a particularly breezy day by the cliff sides, Jon loses his glasses in a fit of inattention and a strong gust of wind. Making his way down to the water in a bid to retrieve them had seemed a perfectly fine idea.At the time.//I hope ya'll like Jon getting absolutely ravaged.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 18
Kudos: 135





	brine under my nails, water in my lungs, and your flesh on mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theblindtorpedo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theblindtorpedo/gifts).



> Inspired and encouraged by the constant horny happenings in the peter discord, where we have no shame. This is multiple chapters cause I personally love a little basic ass world building with my smut. Ya'll are great u_u

Jon glares balefully down and out across the powerful waves, and if the sea spray he gets battered against his face is any indication, it's looking back at him with about enough scorn and then some.

This particular area, where the sea and the land come to meet, is less a picturesque landscape and more a violent maelstrom. The earth is hard and gives way to rock, which drops drastically down into a near cliff-face, with formations that stretch out past the thin pebbly shoreline to be battered more directly by the waves. The sky is just this side of being completely obscured by clouds, a weak filtered sunlight that only barely manages to fend off true dreariness and leave the whole scene feeling only  _ slightly  _ dulled.

But, none of these things hold much consequence for a man who can't fucking  _ see  _ them, Jon thinks bitterly. He shifts his foot into a better placement on the craggy surface of the natural pathway he's found, in order to stop himself from joining a fate such as his glasses. In a truly inspired move Jon has lost them somewhere down below, either shattered upon an outcrop, sunken into the salt water, or, hopefully, but more than unlikely, simply discarded on the strip of shoreline between the two.

Maybe it's a fool's errand to risk his neck to try and find them, but Jon rationalizes it with himself that from where he was standing, he was sure it was more sand and pellets below him than anything else.

Thankfully his vision is only reduced to a slight fuzz around everything's edge, not enough to fully disable him but purely annoying all the same. He carefully picks his way down and untenses his shoulders once his shoes find the shift of pebbles under them, before carefully scanning the area.

The wind is somewhat easier to manage down here, with the pitted rock face at his back, but being so close to where it comes in off of the water still makes the fly-aways from his messy bun whip around at his cheeks. The beach he's stood on is flanked on both sides by massive broken outcroppings, making the space feel enclosed. As the waves swell and surge forward moodily, he can see where the constant impact of it has worn away at them to create half-sunken alcoves further into the water, where the brine can rush in and under to flood whatever cavities may exist before drawing back enough to glimpse a dark interior that he has no interest in swimming his way out to investigate, poor judgement or no. His unfocused vision almost makes the caverns seem to be wavering in size and intensity, the black gape of them winking back at him.

Tearing his gaze away, Jon redirects himself to focus on the more or less flat shore around him. Ridiculously, the nape of his neck tingles strangely as he turns his back to them. The dark shape of his glasses is nowhere to be seen, at least not yet. A few paces across the expanse of the area doesn't give much better results.

"Now, really, this is becoming absurd…" Jon pulls at the thin cardigan, tightening it around his small frame. He has his arms crossed tightly over his chest, attempting to fend off the heightened chill of the whipping wind as he trudges closer to the sea. An entirely harmless visit to a more remote shoreline has turned into an altogether awful afternoon, his book left to be weighed down by a sizable stone up on the grassy cliff while he scuttles around for his glasses. His pride is already bruised enough, and so if he has to salvage the lenses from the seawater and get his shins wet in the process, he'll grit his teeth and deal with it.

This endeavor leads him towards one of the bordering rock formations, towering hundreds of feet above him. His gaze trails down to where the near blackness of the rock meets the white foam of the lazy waves, and he resigns himself to removing his shoes and socks so he can step in and perhaps feel around for the lost item. He'll start from this left side and move across the shallow space to the other, and if the search leaves him empty handed he'll spit and rave but all the same be forced to head back home, to warmer air and dry bed sheets. 

Like  _ hell  _ is Jon going to try and squint at the words in his book over the same drop that cost him his vision, foaming and crashing below like absent mockery.

His first step into the coast is freezing, and his toes almost instantly go numb. He hisses in disdain but forces himself to step out further, feeling along absently for something man-made to brush against him. Better thought makes him dip his hands into the water as well, gliding fingertips across the gritty, sandy bottom. Soon enough he's stepped out far enough that the seawater is starting to lap at the backs of his knees, the skirt he wears fluttering absently a short ways above it. He's stuck close to the side of the outcrop, the massive structure throwing him into shadow, and this far out he can see just a few dozen more feet in front of him, revealed every time the water recedes, is the top arch of an alcove- about waist-high.

His eyes keep catching on the black of it each time it peeks through, and it's very nearly unnerving. Like repeatedly catching the eye of someone- or something- across a room. The feeling of eyes on him has only gotten stronger, and Jon feels foolish for it. Even more foolish to imagine himself being watched as he fumbles around fruitlessly.

He's turning away, turning to his right in the water to keep searching for his glasses, when he hears a sharp splash too close for comfort, a grip secure itself around his submerged wrist-

And then Jonathan Sims is pulled bodily into the surf with a strangled yell choked off in his throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short and sexy little exposition before we get into the meat of things.
> 
> Real shit if you leave a comment I might kill for you. Fuck around and see what happens!!!
> 
> Edit: this WILL get updated i promise you- but as you guys know a bunch of shit has gone down recently irl. Probably gonna be 3 chapters in total when i can finally sit down to crank it out. Thank you for your patience 😳


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